Real Tough
by Totally-T3ii3
Summary: Dallas Winston didn't always think the world was so bad- but he's thought it for a long time. A tale about Dally when he was in New York; not like the others. R
1. Chapter 1

Here I go...

_SUMMARY_: Dallas Winston didn't always think the world was so bad- but he's thought it for a long time. A tale about Dally when he was in New York; not like the others. I hope.  
_NOTE_: Dally is 10/11/and 12 years old in this story!  
_WARNINGS_: Violence in later chapters; Child abuse (ish); Harsh Language; and OCs.  
_If any of the above offends please just don't read it. I'm not forcing you too and if you don't like it I'd rather avoid offending you._

I don't think I'm very good at capturing Dally- but I'm going to try. I have a theory that he got hard in New York so it won't be until around the end that he's hard like in the book. Okay? No flames please.

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Chapter 1

The boys small forehead was pressed against the glass of the passenger side window and he stared out it blankly. The sky was a rolling grey hill of clouds coming from the west and pouring icy drops of rain down from the heavans, pelting the small car as it swerved through the mountain chain in Pennsylvania. Only another two days of driving and he could finally get out of that car for more than an hour! The rain beat down against the window and the trees began to blur together through the downpour. Their bright autumn leaves blending together almost like an oil painting. He didn't care for its beauty- the fact he'd been literally dragged from his home still weighed heavily in his mind.

In the drivers seat sat a young woman sat next to him, she had light auburn hair and bright green eyes, her make up was done flawlessly and he clothes hardly had a wrinkle. Her face was smooth and angular much like his but they looked nothing alike, and it wasn't just because of their differences in hair and eye color. There was something about her personality that the boy just didn't have. She continued to glance over at the boy, concern etched into every line on her thin face. Finally she spoke up.

"Dallas, honey, talk to me. Whats wrong?" her voice was soft and she smiled, but he didn't even bother lifting his eyes to see her reflection in the glass. She sighed heavily when she didn't even get a nod for an answer, "I know you're upset" she began, "I know you liked Tulsa and I know you had friends there but, baby, we had to move- daddy wasn't going to get better and--"

"And you wanted to come home. I know." Dallas said, his tone sharp as he passed a quick glare in her direction

She sighed and nodded, "That's right, baby, but just because we're here now doesn't mean we'll be here forever and--"

"Once you get a new boyfriend we'll pick up and move in with him, right?" he snapped, finally turning to lay his eyes, a sharp icy blue like his fathers, on her

"Dallas Arthur Winston!" she gasped, and slammed her foot onto the break and he jerked forward at the sudden stop, thank God it was a deserted road. She turned to him suddenly, "I will not tolerate that attitude from you! I am your mother and you will respect the decision I have made! I am not going to turn into some cheap whore! Your father ruined love for me and I never want to try it again! New York is the only home I know and if you think for a second pouting will make me turn this car around and go back to the hell of a city with a bastard just because of you well you're wrong, mister! And-- oh, honey!"

Dallas turned his face away and wiped at his eyes. "I get it. Drive."

She reached over and pulled the boy into her arms, "Baby, I'm sorry. Look, New York is going to be great! You'll make lots of friends and we've already got a nice apartment!"

He sighed and nodded, "Sure, mom, okay" he forced a smile onto his face and she kissed him on the forehead- a car honked behind them and she quickly started to go again.

--

The sun had long since been set when she pulled up into an alley behind a large brick building a day later. Dallas stepped out of the car and looked up- he realized, with dismay- he couldn't see the stars. His friend Tim had thrown some half-crocked line at him about the stars still being in the sky so he stopped complaining about the move. He hadn't meant to but he put a lot of faith into the sky, looking up and knowing the people he missed the most were under it as well- but there were no stars for him and he felt truly alone.

"Its a big building, huh?" his mother shattered the silence, mistaking what he was looking at. Slowly he tore his eyes from the empty sky to the harsh bricks of his new home- floors upon floors of residential housing, leaking sinks, cockroaches, and funny people that smelled like cats. Great. He kept the forced smile on his face for her and nodded.

"Peg!" a man shouted running from the rusty back door up to her- he had short brown hair a beard and they hugged tightly for a long time, "Oh, gosh, Peg its so great you came back! We thought we lost you to Ol' Farmer John!"

She covered her smile with her dainty hand and giggled, "Mikey, you don't have to worry about silly things like that! I could never love a man who don't appriciate O'Keif!"

"Ah! O'Keif!" the man threw his head back and laughed "She was from the country, Peg!"

"But she had the mind of a city-girl, what with how she paints and all!"

"I won't even say anything, dear. Now, who's this?" he pointed quite rudely to Dallas who stood awkwardly in his too-big jacket and sneakers waiting for them to stop. It wasn't just idle friendly chat, he knew that. This man loved his mother, and by the look of things she loved him.

She turned and her smile seemed to falter, "My son, Dallas."

"What?! When did he happen?!" the man gasped

Dallas looked down not liking the way he was being pointed at and spoken about like he was deaf. She quickly went to his side and slid her arms around his shoulders and smiled. "Ten years ago. We'll talk later, Mike- come on, honey, let's unpack!"

--

Dallas sighed. One week- one big, stupid, long week. He sank back into the cushions of the plush whit couch. He hated New York. His mother was "job-hunting" with Mike. Sure she was. Mike apparently was her old flame but after an argument she ran off half-cocked with Austin Winston and they left for Tulsa; now Mike had this nice building he was renting out to people except to his mother, the former Mrs. Winston, nope- she got a free apartment on one of the upper floors which were the big, nice ones. They weren't that nice, especially since he was ten years old and stepping out onto the landing outside his bedroom window he saw people and cars rushing below and his stomach churned for fear of falling. He figured if there was an earthquake he'd really be screwed because the building would collapse before he could escape.

He didn't know anyone yet either and that was always really terrible. He would wake up about seven and get to school around nine, then he'd get home about four-thirty and he'd crash on the couch. He hadn't done his homework yet but that was because he was waiting for his mother to ask about it and he could tell her he was rebelling against her then maybe she'd feel really bad and he could go home. He missed Tulsa, he had a lot going for him back in Tulsa! He was really tuff back in Tulsa but up here people didn't think he was tuff at all. He was just some kid up here.

He was currently sprawled out on his stomach staring aimlessly at the stitches in the sofa and counting them- he'd already gotten to one-hundred-and-seventeen, he made a note to boast to Tim about how high he could count when he got back to Tulsa. If he ever got back to Tulsa. He was rolling into the one-hundred-twenties when someone pounded on the door and he lost count and glared over his shoulder. What the heck would someone want with them? He was home all alone and unless it was Mike no one came to call. They didn't go away so he went and unlocked the door- they had three locks on the door because Mike had said it would keep him safe. Pah! He hated Mike.

"Wha'd'ya want?" he asked irritably swinging the door open and stopped staring up at three of the tuffest looking guys he'd ever layed eyes on

"Hey" grinned one, he had black hair slicked nicely back into a pompadour and two sleeves of tuff-looking tatoos up and down each arm, he wore the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his shoulders tucked into a pair of tight jeans that cuffed on the bottom and he completed his bad boy ensamble with a pair of scuffed boots. "My names Al Morgen, I live down the hall a ways.." he motioned with battered hand down the hall "..We was wonderin' who got Mike's favorite room. What's your name, little fella'?"

"Little fella'?" he squeaked, glaring up, "Its Dallas! Dallas Winston and I'm not a little fella'! I'm tall for my age, jerk!"

The second guy just laughed long, loud, and hard. His hair was copper and twisted and curled in crazy ways and Dallas wondered if he'd just woken up. He ws taller than Al and thinner too, but he was tough- Dallas could tell because his hands were just as messed up as Al's and his eyes were dark and empty like other guys back in Tulsa. Al held his hand up and abruptly he stopped laughing. Oh, Dally gulped, he was the big-guy around here.

"Tuff name- big, bad, tuff attitude too. Kiddo, you're alright" Al smiled patting his shoulder. "How old're you?"

The third guy was short and broad, he had mussels that were so big they made his shirt stretch hard across his barrel chest. His hair was thin brown hair cut into a tight flat top and small beady brown eyes. He was scary- like a bulldog that had been starved and was ready to pounce on the first bit of meat he could sink his sharp little teeth into. Dallas did not lke him.

"I'm ten" he said, avoiding the short guys little eyes, "I'm gonna be eleven in ten months too!"

Al grinned like that made all the difference in the world, "I like kids with moxy. Look pal, I'm the leader of the Mannix Street Monks!" he said, grinning like it was some big deal

Dally looked up at him cluelessly, "Mannix Street Monks..?" he repeated lamely "Thats long and boring"

The tall, lanky guy started laughing again! He seemed to have a problem controlling himself. Al held up his hand again and once more he stopped laughing. Then, Al turned to look down at Dallas, "Real tough fella'." he laughed hooking an arm around the boy's shoulder and dragging him down the hallway. The little buff guy shut the door to his apartment and they walked down the hall. "Got someone ya' gotta meet- she's real tough too."

Oh God- Dally paniced- now he'd never be able to write his letter to Tim about the starless sky and the stupid free room and how high he could count! The ten year old was sure he was going to die because of his sassy mouth.

* * *

Okay! I dunno how good it is- I like it. Of course I do. But I bet my Dally is just -gag- so.. please.. no flames? However i understand if you just hate it that bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Seven reviews. SEVEN REVIEWS! You all made my day- I feel much more encouraged to continue :D

_DBG_- patience!!  
_xxmuchlovinxx_- I will be editing all grammatical errors soon. Thank you so much for the advice :D grammar is NOT my strong point  
_curly's gal_- :D you have to read and find out about the gang  
_whatcoloristhesky_- your name is pretty. it reminds me of the background on my celly :D Anyway, thanx for the review  
_mamakitty01_- the name was too long? wel.. it fits though, right?  
_Pictures_- Yes D: You're right I'm sorry. I'll be editing it soon!  
_OliverScye_- I think the word you were looking for is "ample opportunity" You're also right about the slang. I'll be editing soon so I'll find a new word.

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Chapter 2

"Lay back, Jack" grinned the tall, lanky guy as he took a frim grip on Dallas' elbow to stop his wriggling. The big guy just walked behind them, taking up the entire hallway with his bulk. "Its cool, brotha' we're cool." the tall one continued. He had a high-pitched voice and he sounded a bit like he was talking out his nose.

"M- my names not Jack" the youngest boy stammered, looking up into his hard eyes. Man, he was such a hood! Dally almost shuddered imagining what this jerk had seen to make him look so grim.

"I know! It's Dallas Winston- that's too tough a name for a little fella' like you!" he said, he had a lazy, goofy smile on his face that just wouldn't go away.

"I'm not a little fella'! Where're you draggin' me too?!" Dallas yelled and he tried to throw his weight one way, then the other and kick and yell. Al punched him hard in the back of the head and he felt his eyes water. He was so scared- he'd seen guys get dragged off before, Buck was once and then when he saw him later he was so bloody and crippled looking. It was terrible and Buck was eighteen! He was a grown up! Imagine what they'd do to him.

"Its okay, kid, relax" Al said as they reached a door at the end of the hall, "Oh, hey! You cryin'?"

"I am not cryin'!" Dally shouted back- oh, how he wanted to cry but he wasn't going to. He knew better than to cry in front of hard lookin' J.D's like this. He'd suck it all up and pray he got out of it alive.

"Chill out, man, we're bein' friendly!" Al said patting his shoulder, giving him a look and Dally wanted to trust him because he looked like Tim if Tim got older and harder, but he knew better than to trust a guy like him. He knew he shouldn't have opened the door.

"I'm Alexander" said the big guy suddenly, he had a low voice that made Dally cold but he was trying to be nice. He was trying real hard to be nice, anyone could see that because he was squinting and glarinf anymore.

"I'm Skinny Jim!" grinned the tall guy, "Mike's my uncle- he's a jerk but he gives all us Monks a place to chill at! You should be happy your mom's his girl- if you lived on the west side we'd have to beat you up for bein' a Brawler."

"Brawler?" Dally repeated. The way they'd spoken was like the hoods back in Tulsa, about gangs and about territory.

"The Manhattan Brawlers- they're in Manhattan." Skinny Jim explained

"I- I thought I was in New York" he said, blinking, absolutely confused at what it meant to be in Manhattan- his mother had used the word almost as much as she used 'New York' but she'd also said 'Bronx' and 'Queens' he thought it was all different words for the same place.

Skinny Jim nodded, "Ya're. Lemme break it down. There's five buroughs in New York, you live in Queens. After that each burough has a couple'a neighborhoods and each neighborhood has its own gang. All you gotta know is you live in Long Island City, the L.I.C, we're near the harbor and across the harbor is Manhattan. All gangs in Manhattan hate us- so just forget about ever seein' Central Park or Union Square unless ya' want mugged."

Dally sighed and nodded- just like back in Tulsa. Territories- except this was a lot easier than in Tulsa. So long as he didn't leave L.I.C he'd be okay- the fact that he didn't know the borders of the neighborhood hardly mattered- he didn't leave his apartment. Al asked him if he was okay- he said he looked pale and Dallas believe that because he felt pale, but he said he was just fine so Al pushed open the door.

It was crowded and smokey inside and the air was thick with cigarette smoke there were people everywhere. Wow, he exhaled thoughtfully, this was their gang's hangout. This was a real New York gangs pad! It was like in the movies and once he was in he could barely contain his excitement. A girl sauntered up, she had tight, blonde curls and big red lips, and brigh green eyes under too much mascarra. She smiled and leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees and looked at Dallas- he blinked in confusion- wondering why her shirt was so low and her skirt was so short.

"Hiya, honey" she smiled at him, "I'm Martha." she reached her hand out and he slowly took it. She looked trashier than the Greasy older girls down in Tulsa. He made a mental-note, since he wasn't going to die, to write that also in his letter to Tim.

"Martha stop lookin' like a slut!" Al barked at her, "He's ten!" he grabbed her arm and yanked her up and immedeatly they began to scream at each other. Dallas' eyes widened because he'd never heard a girl, even a Greasy older girl in Tulsa- talk like that to a Hood!

"You think you're just so cool, huh, daddy-o?! So tough- so swingin'- so hoppin'! You're such a big badass- your brass balls! Well guess what, fella' you don't scare me none!" she jabbed a long finger nail into his chest serveral times in her loud fit.

"If I had a right mind I'd smack you so hard your mama felt it!" Al shouted at her, Dallas shrank back next to Skinny Jim and Alexander who were over by the long table of assorted drinks- ignoring the fight, but Dallas couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Then why don't ya'? I ain't no pansy Prep!" she spat the last word. Dallas wondered if that was anything like a Soc, "I ain't no skirt for your arm, honey! You smack me you've got a harpy on your ass like _that_!" she snapped her fingers

"I already got a harpy!" Al yelled, throwing his tattoo'd arms in the air furiously,

"Oh, boo-hoo!" she hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously, "You know what, I'm outta' here!" she tossed her head, nose in the air, eyes shut like she was too good for him. "Don't gotta take these insults. I'm a woman- not a wallet!"

"Cause'a you I ain't got no wallet t'speak of! Go on, get outta' here ya' dame!" he spat waving her off with frenzied, battered hands. She snapped a final glare at him and stormed for the door. She was pretty- Dallas acknowleded. She had on a short lepard-prnt skirt and fishnet stalking, her blouse was frilly and purple matching the pair of heels she wore, and over that was a baggy, brown leather jacket that was too big for her. Dallas wondered if it was her boyfriend's jacket. Al stood, glaring at the door through which she departed hatefully.

"Three..." Alexander murmured, his low voice a booming whisper making Dallas jump

"Two..." Skinny Jim whispered through his hyena-smile, his deep, almost hollow eyes glittering mischeviously

"One" they said together

At that exact moment Al huffed and shouted, "Martha! Wait!" and jogged out the door after her. There was a short pause before the entire room of hoods and greasers burst into laughter. Cackling and Dallas was reminded of hyena's- their grins wide, showing shrap imperfect teeth, eyes scrunched tight with their howls. He wondered why that was so funny.

"Oh boy.." one boy rolled off of a couch and walked towards them- he had black hair rolling over his forehead, brushed to the right, brown eyes, and tan skin. Dallas stared- he was Mexica or something. Right? He didn't know. "..Boy, oh boy, hey- fella's. Who's the ankle-biter?" he ruffeled Dallas' hair good-naturdley

"Hey! I'm ten years old!" Dallas shotued batting his hand away, glaring at him

The kid smiled, "Hey'a little friend! I'm Joey." he said ruffling Dallas' hair again, "You another feisty catch? Al always finds feisty folks to bring 'round. Tha's the problem with our gang- we're too feisty for our own good."

Dallas blinked, "What? So- I'm in your gang?"

"Maybe" Skinny Jim grinned, "After the initiation."

"Initiation?" Dallas gulped. He didn't like the sound of that! Back in Tulsa if the guys you bummed around with were a gang then you were in their gang it was just that simple. Al and Martha returned then and seemed to be on good terms- oh- Dallas realized, she was his girlfriend. Al did ask him if he'd like to take a stab at the gang initiation- he gulped and agreed. There were at least a dozen older boys there and he wasn't excited about the idea of getting called a sissy for not trying. It was simple: get real drunk.

Dallas had never been drunk before, Tim and him almost were once but then Tim's dad caught them and they got in trouble. Dallas grabbed the first can of beer he saw, popped the tab and began to drink.

--

"Ohhh" he groaned the next morning, lying on an unfamilar couch that smelled funny like sweat, musk, smoke and beer, Martha sat with his head in her lap, rubbing his stomach to soothe him. This was Al's apartment he'd gotten it for cheap rent from Mike because Martha was Mike's neice, and Skinny Jim's cousin but they weren't on good terms. Dallas hadn't asked why, or if he had he was too drunk to remember her answer.

"Just go to sleep, Dally," she smiled down at him, "Go to sleep and I'll tell your mom that we're going to hang out with you for the day."

She may have looked like some trashy slut, what with her make-up and fashion he'd think she was waiting for someone to jump and rape her, but right now she was the most wonderful person in the world and she was kind, warm, and smelled like vanilla. Vanilla reminded him of cake, which reminded him of home, and he liked home. He liked Tulsa. He was asleep again soon.

--

He woke up a second time the next morning to his alarm clock, he got up and ready for school that morning- it was Monday and he'd slept through Sunday entirely. His mother was jabbering about how sweet and kind all the older kids were. He hadn't said anything because she wasn't talking to him, she didn't even notice him as she bustled around the apartment getting ready- she was talking to Mike. Mike didn't notice him either and they swept out of the apartment without a word to him.

That made him feel lousy and he went to school in a horrible funk- today it bothered him even more that no other kids wanted to talk to him, that the teachers classes were so packed they didn't know his name. Everyone called him 'new kid'. He was scared to answer questions in class because they all laughed when he spoke because of his accent. He hated it. Hated New York, hated Mike, hated his parents, hated feeling his eyes burn because he wasn't going to cry because now he was ten, and ten-year-olds don't cry! It made him miss Tulsa more than ever!

Finally it ended and he dragged himself out the front doors- head hung low. His eyes still burned with the unshed tears and as he was dragging his feet over the muddy front lawn he heard a car honk. He turned his head and his eyes opened wide and stopped burning- Al was sitting with Martha in a bright, shiny Chevy Corvette! He let out a heavy sigh and ran up to them.

"Wow. Oh- wow! Golly what a ride!" he exclaimed breahtlessly staring at it, "What a tuff car!"

Al grinned proudly, "She is a cherry, huh?" he asked, ignoring the weird look Dallas gave him, "Get in the car, Dally. Just climb up 'round the side. You can jump can't'ya'?" he said

Dallas nodded and jumped scrambling up into the car. He was grinning- oh, wow. He wondered how tuff he looked sitting in the back of a Corvette! He knew other kids were looking at him enviously.

"So, kid wanna go get a burger?" he asked, looking over his shoulder as they sped up and bolted straight up the street leaving rubber tracks in their wake- leaving speechless little kids there too.

Martha looked at him, "You better slow down, honey or I'll walk!" she hissed warningly and he slowed down a bit. Dallas grinned and leaned back in his seat. Oh yeah- he was tuff. He had to get started on that letter to Tim!

--

Weeks ticked by, Dallas hardly noticed he was cool. He was the height of cool to the other kids in his school- but he always left them in a cloud when Al picked him up from school every day in that nice, shiny Corvette. They'd get a burger and he'd go to Al's apartment where Martha would help him with his school work. On fridays and saturays he'd get real drunk with the older kids- they were even teaching him to smoke but he was bad at it, he kept inhaling the smoke.

It soon got very cold, the trees lost their bright, colorful leaves and the sky was grey and the snow was piling up thick on the streets, sidewalks, and cars. Dallas had never seen snow before- his mother bough him a nice jacket and sweatshirt he wore almost all the time. Martha thought it was really funny how he stomped in the snow- watching it crunch under his boots. He was with Martha a lot these days- He loved the snow, even if it was really cold. Al drove a powder blue Chevrolet Bel-Air instead. Corvette's weren't hard-tops and it wasn't cool having piles of snow in your car.

Martha didn't come with him one day, and then Al killed the engine in an alley a block from his apartment, "Kid- you ever get in a real fight?" he asked turning to look at the boy in the passenger seat.

"Yeah" Dallas nodded, confused, "Why?"

"I'm a man short for this fight commin' up. You think you can handle yourself?" his eyes were hard and serious

Dallas squirmed under his gaze, "Mm- yes. Yes. I could handle it, Al!" he said firmly

Al smiled, "Tough kid. Real tough kid." he started the engine and they drove the last block to the apartment building.

* * *

Well? I'm sorry if its no good. I tried real hard to make it good. Flames not wanted but I'll accept them.


	3. Chapter 3

So, I was gonna throw this away- I though it was junk however i got a few reviews and just... got very happy and a new wave of self-confidence so i had to continue.

_Self importance_- Thank you so much! I didn't get an e-mail telling me you reviewed and I just went to my reviews page now to see if it should be scrapped and I read your message. Thank you so much for that! Your words meant a lot!  
_Mamakitty01-_ Martha is nothing like Lola.. that hurts... LOL hope you like this chapter!  
_DBG-_ Here. Enjoy. Its freakin' long!  
_xxmuchlovinxx-_ Yes! Thank you and I am trying very hard! :D  
Oh, also _whatcoloristhesky_, though she did not review she told me they were good the other day and, well, I was happy.

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Chapter 3

The worst feeling Dallas had ever felt was undoubtedly sitting on that cold, icy concrete stoop, looking down at his boots, they were red rubber and looked stupid with his old jeans and the worn denim jacket Al had given him. It fit ok, and was even better than his nice coat because it had wool on the inside and was real soft and warm, also he wore that sweatshirt under it and the snow didn't bother him. Maybe it wasn't his boots that made him so uncomfortable, although they did stick out, he was the smallest of them all, he had big eyes and his hair was getting longer than ever, and to top it all off anyone would look right at him because he was wearing red snow boots. He chose them because he really liked red, but he wasn't so sure he liked it anymore.

No, he sighed, watching his breath billow into smoke and rise into the air, this feeling had nothing to do with his boots- it was the quiet. The waiting. This crushing silence as he sat, surronded by big kids, eyes set sharp with weapons. Switchblades, bats, chains, Al had a pistol- that had scared him when he pulled it out of a box and showed it to Dally- he wasn't scared of violence, or guns, he'd gone hunting before and could shoot himself- but it was that Al was aiming to kill someone with that gun. Dally sharnk into his denim jacket, he gripped the handle of the ball bat he was to weild in the fight, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up,

"Cool it tough guy," Joey whispered, his bright brown eyes dancing under those black, greasey bangs, "This is just gonna be one big tickle, kiddo, promise."

Dally nodded. Joey hadn't been wrong yet- he always told Dally stuff, like school stuff, math and history were his best subjects. Dally always put down his answers on his papers and he was always right. Joey was nearly eighteen and had a really pretty girlfriend and they were even gonna get married soon. He was real proud of her- proud of having her, or keeping her Dally wasn't sure which but it was alluded to that he and her hadn't always had the fairytale relationship. But, Dally didn't understand relationships. Unless the girl was Martha, the girl was icky. He didn't have to think any more about it.

"Cut the gas!" Al hissed at them and Dally began to tremble, Al looked so on edge- that can't be good- he was only on edge when Martha was around and she was in the apartment a few blocks away, "It's Georgie."

Georgie was an average guy, he had brown short hair, and brown eyes, and he wasn't real thin like Skinny Jim or real big like Alexander he was just normal. Dally heard the older guys talking about how Georgie was the one who started this whole fight- he did have a big mouth sometimes- and earlier Al sent Georgie to go and talk to the guys they were fighting with. It was cool, a truce, until the other gang came onto the lot, a big gravel lot where it would be, and then anything was allowed.

Georgie was staggering, leaning heavily against the wall. A boy named Anthony, who was Georgie's best friend, jumped up, "He's hurt!" he exclaimed and jumped over Dally's head and ran to Georgie who fell and crumpled into Anthony's extended arms and they both collapssed on the slick, concrete alley, "Al!!" he called "Al, he's knifed!!"

Al cursed and rushed over. Dally stood but Joey pushed him back to sit.

They held their breath until Al and Anthony helped Georgie get to his feet and walk forward with Georgie's arms over their shoulders. As they entered the single splotch of light from a dusty street lamp that stood just next to the stoop, Dally saw how beaten Georgie was and he stopped trembling. Georgie was beat down good and he was shaking at all- so Dally wasn't going to tremble if he was the onlyone.

"Gimme the whiskey," Al said, looking to the long-haired blonde boy, Henry, who huffed but gave him a flask from his hip and Al yanked up Georgie's shirt, over his head and poured the alcohol right over the bloody wound on his shoulder. Joey let out a sigh of relief, it wasn't deep or fatal, so Georgie was fine. Anthony was launched into a lectue about being stupid and getting knifed- turning his back- trusting- idiot- it went on and on until Georgie's shirt was yanked back down and the empty flask was handed back to Henry.

"Ya' gonna fight?" Skinny Jim asked, he'd been quiet against the forsted brick wall of the ruined building in front of the lot. Dally had never seen Skinny Jim so quiet, and frankly he didn't like it one bit. Skinny Jim wasn't supposed to be quiet and it only added to the crushing silence closing around Dallas' lungs.

Georgie nodded, "Damn straight."

Al looked up, "They're coming. Get ready," and then he looked right at Dallas, "We can run ya' back t'the apartment with Martha if you're too spooked, kid. I may have been wrong t'bring ya' here."

Dally stared at him. Al was looking at him with those real hard eyes, narrowed but some how soft as they stared at the little blonde before him. He was saying Dallas was too young to be in a real fight like this. He was saying they'd risk losing, or dying, to take him home to be safe. He was saying he'd let him chicken out. He was calling him a little baby. He was saying his place was at home with a girl and not with the men. He was saying Dally couldn't take it. He was saying Dally wasn't tough.

He may have been ten but he had a reputation to build, turning his eyes into a glare he spat, "Fuck off! I'm stayin' an' fightin'!"

And some how, that made Al smile. That made the crushing silence lighten up, not lift and flee but it wasn't so.. paralyzing. Saying he would stay and be tough made the others look at him- telling Al to 'fuck off' boosted his confidence because he wasn't slugged in the jaw for it as anyone else would have been. Yeah...

Yeah. He could do this. After all, he was ten years old. He wasn't a baby.

Then there were footsteps. They all stopped and the silence returned tenfold, and Dally held his breath watching the lanky black silhouettes stalk down that alley and across the lot. He heard the gravel and snow crunching under their feet- he heard his own rubber boots squeak as his akle twisted a bit nervously over the ice. He watched the black shadowa take on a more solid appearance as they neared and he watched dirty faces, glaring eyes, appear in the dim light of the streetlamp. Dally bit his lip a second, then licked his lips and wished he hadn't because he felt them crack. He hated having chapped lips. Then they all stood so he got up too and pretended his knees weren't jello.

"Rules?" asked the leader of the opposing gang, he had red-brown hair, dirt on his nose, freckles and beady blue eyes. He glard at Al and didn't have a weapon- or at least one in the open- just like Al had his pistol hidden while every other boy in the gang held a weapon of some sort.

"None." Al answered,

Then, one by one the boys stepped to the left or the right of their leader, both gangs lined up in a neat straight line. God- Dally exhaled looking up at the boy across from him. A skinny kid with an eyepatch. He wished he could grab Skinny Jim's hand, the boy stood next to him and looked very intimidating, but he knew better. He was ten years old. He could handle this fight. Then he saw the glint of steel wrapped around the other guys hand and he held his breath. A chain or a knife he didn't like either option.

They were waiting for something. Dally didn't know what so he stood in more of that horrible silence not knowing what the hell was going on. Then suddenly he saw a glint from the corner of his eye- everyone looked down the line- a guy from the other gang was holding a tea kettle by the handle and smashed it down on Henry's head!

Then it started.

"Nice boots- wanna see mine?" the tall guy before him hissed and cranked his leg back and jammed his boot into Dally's gut! The air he'd been holding in came rushing out- as well as any other air in his body- and he layed there panting but unable to draw breath.

Feet stamped past him as dots danced before his eyes. Some guys seemed to be dancing becuase two of them were boxing- other were running, chasing- he didn't know who's boots were who's until those big black ones came and colided with his lungs again and he felt himself lift off the ground and land on the gravel. The kid was stomping over. He scrambled up, swaying and staring at the triple image of the boy and just began to swing the bat, which he miraculously hadn't dropped. Something happend then- there was a crack and the tall kid crumpled down. Dally stared at him- he was clutching his knee and gritting his teeth to get back up.

"HIT HIM!!" someone yelled- it sounded like Alexander- and he raised the bat and didn't think twice before smashing it over the kid's head. He didn't count how many times he hit him- he just hit. And hit. And hit for what seemed to be forever.

Then he stopped and the guy was laying there, bloody but breathing- Dally ran from him with his bat still in his fist- looking for someone to help.

He ran threw crowd- on pure instince with andredaline pumping through his veins- just swinging that bat like he'd hit a home run and because of his side he was lucky to be unnoticed as he ran. He just hoped he wasn't hitting his friends. He burst through the other side of the crowd and fell down. Hot tears in his eyes as he turned to see his friends bralwing it out. Blood was splattered on the snow- there were fallen bodies- and he heard the crushing sound as wood broke bone, or chain struck across an already bruised face. He spotted Georgie and Anthony who stood back-to-back.

He saw Al and the other leader on the ground duking it out with their bare fists. Al was on top of the other guy his knuckles colliding with the other boys face. Over and over and over. Dally saw Alexander holding a boy by the shoulders and smashing his forehead against his. He saw so many others fighting- fighting. Then saw Skinny Jim dancing, hips swinging from side to side, jumping one way, sucking in his gut as the other guy tried to stab him with a kitchen knife he was weilding like a switchblade. That wasn't fair- Jim was unarmed. He ran over to them and didn't think twice before swinging a home-run, the other boys hips were the fast ball and the smashed! A scream came from that boy and when he fell Dally hit him.

Skinny Jim stopped him, "We ain't gonna kill." he said before turning and running to another fight. Dally was about to follow when something smashed against the back of his head hard and loud!

The world went black.

--

He awoke- his head throbbing worse than a hangover and felt two strong arms shaking him: "Wake up, kid! Dally! Dallas!" the person exclaimed. He felt like the world was spinning yet he was sitting still. His vision was in threes but he clearly recognized Skinny Jim. He sounded so frantic- so scared- Dallas didn't know Skinny Jim could sound scared. He nodded though to make him stop.

"W- was that a nod?" Skinny Jim asked

"Stop shakin' him and see!" Alexander demanded

So, the shaking stop and Dally managed to lift his head and looked up at him. Skinny Jim smiled and he was lifted up- high up. In fact Skinny Jim picked him up in his arms and held him on his side. He tried to wriggle away but Skinny Jim would not let go. In truth he was glad for it as the world came back into focus and he felt the feeling return to his knees.

"He's okay!" Jim called, then murmured "He's okay.."

Dally was looking at everyone- people were crowded around him and, boy! They looked so bad. Henry's blonde hair was tinted in his own blood- Georgie and Anthony's faces were unrecognizable. Skinny Jim and Alexander were bruised and beaten- and Al was wiping off his pistol.. which was still smoking. Dally sucked in air sharply. He saw everyone- not just the ones he knew personally but all the other guys in the gang who had fought with them. He was still learning their names. But there was one face he did not see.

"Joey.." his voice was raspy and harsh even to his own ears, "Joey... where's... Joey?"

Al looked down, "Joey.. he.. he got shot kid?"

The words sounded so normal- like, oh! Joey got shot everyday! He blinked not rigstering the deapth. "By you?" he asked looking at his pistol,

"No," Al shook his head, "Not by me, kid. Another kid. I shot that kid."

Dally nodded, "So..." he held his head like it would pop, "So where's Joey?"

"...Joey died." Al said sadly,

"Died...?" he asked and he knew what that meant he knew it meant gone- not alive- but for some reason he couldn't grasp it. Joey couldn't be dead. Joey had a girlfriend and a future- Joey had a smile, and dancing bright eyes. Joey had a plan and Joey was his friend. Saying Joey was dead was like saying Tim was dead. It was such an absurd thing to say becuase Dallas knew that could never happen.

But the crushing silence was back, and accompanying it was this burning sorrow.

"Liar," he looked right at Al,

Al frowned, "Don't I wish."

Dally shoved away and Skinny Jim let him down. The world spun and he grabbed the nearest thing- Alexander. He wanted to cry. Someone actually died- worse: it was his friend. A good friend. From where he leaned against Alexander he saw two bodies crumpled on the ground- their feet almost touching. One was Joey- eyes wide, like a deer in headlights, and there was no light in them- there was nothing just an emptiness.

A horibble emptiness that was spreading through him like the blood through the snow. His stomach gave a lurch and he vomitted into the snow.

He suddenly hated the color red.

* * *

I'm iffy about the fight scene- it wasn't fast enough I think. Tell me what you think.


End file.
